Pouring Money Down the Drain

An act of devotion, cost, and beauty. Mary of Bethany pours a jar of expensive perfume onto Jesus's feet, and wipes it with her hair. An act of worship. An act that would fill all the senses - the amazing sight of this respectable woman pouring out her love. The sound of the oil pouring. The smell of spikenard filling the air.

But. There's always one, isn't there? One with the hot take? One who says, "I wouldn’t have done it like that if I were you." Sort of person who'd listen to Beethoven's Fifth being premiered, sidle up to the stage door afterwards, and go, "I reckon dah-dah-dah dum is a bit samey as an intro, Ludwig? And maybe just drop a little bit of the 3rd violin?"

And here we have, of course, Judas. Leaping into that role with "You could have sold the ointment and given it to the poor, dear. You're just pouring money down the drain, there."

Now we're not told what Mary says in reply, having been Judasplained about her priorities. But I like to think it was something like, "that was my jar of ointment that I can use for what I like. And you can keep your opinions, mate."

Because it's not Judas's ointment. He has no authority here. Mary has done something wonderful and beautiful and costly, and Judas hasn't. He has no right to criticise because this hasn't cost him.

Isn't that often the way when we criticise? It's not costly to us. We've not taken the risks or paid the costs. It's not us that's learned an instrument or practised for however many hours or put our heart and soul into the thing we've decided isn't good enough.

All the armchair generals telling us how Ukraine should defend itself are very definitely not having to plan a war while bombs rain around them. All the people in media and social media, telling us that they got by in the 1930s with just a candle to warm the house and ice so thick on the windows they had to scrape polar bears off to get the curtains open in the morning. They're criticising those who are struggling with heating and food bills, but they're doing so from positions of comfort. There's no cost for them. No risk.

Mary of Bethany is not taking the low-risk option of sitting back and snarking about others. She's got an expensive bottle of perfume and she's gonna pour it on Jesus's feet. She's seen something  - an opportunity - that we don't have. You know how in his first Epistle, St John says, how can you love the God you haven't seen if you don't love your neighbour whom you can see? Mary is able to see God before her. And she has poured out to him the costliest thing she has.

And the room is full of the beauty of the love she has poured out. This is pure worship - heartfelt, beautiful, and costly.

And prophetic. Jesus is Christ, the Anointed One - and here he is, being anointed. But this anointment is against the day of his funeral. Mary’s pre-empting his death. And doing the job that all the other Marys, and Salome, won't do later - when they go to a tomb to anoint a dead Christ, and find against all science and reason that their services are not required.

So what does this passage tell us about worship? That it's beautiful, personal and costly. That it involves our whole selves and all our senses.

What does it tell us about loving God and our neighbours? The old story. That we love God with all our lives, and then our neighbours as ourselves. After 2,000 years, the poor are still with us.

What does it tell us about cheap criticism? That it's safe for us, destructive to others, and not pleasing to God.

And what does it tell us about Jesus? That he is the Holy one. The Anointed one. The one worthy of all our hearts' and lives' possessions. And yet the one who though deserving all things will bring us to his Father through a cross.